


Don't cry, baby

by ElDiablito_SF



Series: Penis PJ Verse [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Operas, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: Flint's never been to the Met and Silver isn't having any of that





	Don't cry, baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WeeBeastie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/gifts).



> So this is how I filled Mac's "Don't cry, baby" prompt <3
> 
> I can't believe this verse is a series now...

Flint had lived in New York for most of his adult life (which was also the only way he could afford his current domicile: rent control), so it was with a bit of sheepishness that he had to admit to Silver he’d never actually been to the Met Opera House.

“I thought you were gay!” Silver had proclaimed with a look of genuine shock.

“My gayness has done very little to enrich me,” Flint snapped back, more than a little annoyed. 

“No, nuh-uh, they’re gonna take your gay card away, I’m pretty sure,” Silver continued, relentlessly, swyping madly on his phone to dictate what Flint had to assume was another task he’d thought up for poor Muldoon. “But this is great,” Silver prattled on, oblivious to Flint’s growing discontent. “See? I’m always trying to find ways to do nice things for you, and now I can.”

“You’re gonna take me to the Opera?” Flint snorted. “What do you even know about Opera?”

“More than you, apparently. I’ve been to the Met.”

Flint seriously considered withholding sex at that. “You’re lucky you’re hot,” he stated, with a sour expression. “If you were just rich, there’s no way this would keep happening,” he said, pointing between the two of them.

“This has nothing to do with how rich I am. You are just married to your misery.”

It was beginning to sound an awful lot like the beginnings of a tiff and Flint didn’t have the wherewithal for one. In truth, he hadn’t had a real relationship in years, hadn’t exactly attempted to cultivate any, and wasn’t sure how he had ended up in one with a fucking twenty-something mogul of all people. He considered just whipping his cock out because that was one sure way of shutting Silver up as far as he’d been able to determine.

“Listen, not that I’ve ever needed to buy them, but even I know that the Met offers $25 rush tickets. Just saying,” Silver continued to talk, looking solely at the screen of his phone. Possibly watching this net worth grow, Flint thought bitterly. 

“Well, we didn’t have the internet when I was growing up. We had to walk to the box office, uphill both ways, and anyways, shut the fuck up before I throw you out.”

Silver fixed him with a long look. Were it not for the flare of his nostrils, Flint would not be sure that a whirlwind of emotions had overtaken him. That damn kid had an amazing poker face.

“So, you don’t want the box seats that Muldoon just got us for tonight’s _I Puritani_?”

Flint whimpered. He may never have been to the Met, but Bellini was his secret favorite. He was weak for bel canto. 

“How did you know?” Flint asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You paint seascapes, you’re not exactly Picasso,” Silver replied with one of his bright grins, practically wagging his tail because he’d smelled he’d been a good boy. “I didn’t think you’d want to go see anything more recent than Puccini.” 

“Touché,” Flint admitted, grudgingly. “I’m more of a Jan Porcellis, but with less… sky.”

“So, we’re not fighting anymore?” Silver asked cautiously.

“Damn you, you bought my affection again,” Flint allowed a small smile to curve his lips.

Silver rose, his hips swaying as he made his way across Flint’s kitchen to wrap his arms around his neck, their foreheads and then their noses touched. Flint stood there, leaning against his counter with his his hands resting upon the curve of Silver’s lower back, just over the delectable curve of his ass that had no business existing among mortals. Silver’s hair tickled his face like wind-blown silk. The siren of a passing fire engine floated in and out his open window and his cock stirred at the heat pooling between their bodies.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Silver whispered, his lips brushing against Flint’s.

“What the fuck? I’m not crying.”

“I mean tonight at the Opera,” Silver’s tongue gently probed the seam of Flint’s mouth. “I know how sappy you can be and how grateful you secretly are to have a thoughtful lover such as myself.”

Flint bit the brat’s lower lip. “I’m gonna fuck that mouth of yours,” he promised with a grunt.

“The boxes aren’t that private,” Silver exhaled with a hitch, his body coiled like a spring and pressing into Flint’s with determination. 

“Then I’ll have to do it before we leave the house.”

Silver’s hand was already snaking its way into his pants, fingers finding his growing erection and stroking the shaft lovingly.

“I’ll ask Muldoon to bring me a change of clothes,” Silver said as he sank down to his knees before Flint with youthful alacrity.

Flint had no idea how he was ever supposed to win an argument in this budding relationship of theirs.


End file.
